


That Kind of Love

by popstarryeyed (hermione_of_vulcan)



Category: Andrew Hozier-Byrne (Musician)
Genre: Bathtubs, Inspired By Tumblr, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Other, also for, apparently there's a specific tag for, which is wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 06:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermione_of_vulcan/pseuds/popstarryeyed
Summary: Andrew takes a bath.





	That Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this Tumblr post](https://turninghoziest.tumblr.com/post/184419264813/what-i-need-a-music-video-of-hozier-in-a-bathtub).

Shoes and socks were kicked off aching feet, a tie was loosened and pulled off, and a cascade of brown curls tumbled down out of a tight bun. A jacket was tossed aside, and shirt buttons were unfastened, revealing a tuft of chest hair peeking over the low collar of an undershirt. A belt was unbuckled, and trousers were pushed down long legs.

Andrew took a moment to flop down on the bed in relief. His tight undershirt rode up as he stretched, and he traced the indents of his dress clothes on his stomach. He relished the feeling of freedom. The only thing that’d gotten him through the day’s social obligations was the thought of being able to collapse like this when he got back. Well, that, and…

He sat up. It was time to begin his preparations.

First, his undershirt and boxers joined the pile of the clothes on the bed, and he replaced them with a fluffy hotel bathrobe.

Second, he carried an armful of candles into the hotel bathroom and arranged them around the rim of the tub. He began running the water, and as the tub filled, he lit the candles.

Third, he set his phone on the bathroom counter and queued up a mix of soft instrumental jazz.

And lastly, and most importantly, he opened the small bag from Lush. A smile crossed his face at the thought he’d left that employee with a good story to tell. After all, it probably wasn’t often that a 6’5” man walked in looking for a bath bomb for himself, let alone one who was famous and who had a very specific request.

But goddamn, this hotel had the largest bathtubs he’d ever seen, and Andrew was going to make the most of it.

He turned off the water and dropped the bath bomb in. It bubbled, sending inky black tendrils across the tub, and his grin widened. _Yes_. That was the exact effect he was going for.

The bathrobe dropped to the floor, and he sank into the bath. The warm fragrant water enveloped his body, soothing away the aches and stress of touring and social obligations. His eyelids drooped, and he let out a sigh of relief. The sensations enfolded him into their embrace – the hazy flicker of candlelight, the warmth of the water cradling him, the scent of roses, the sound of soft jazz –

_Oh_ , he suddenly thought, _this is romantic_.

His hand slowly drifted down to rest on his thigh, his fingertips just barely grazing his anatomy. He inhaled sharply. God, it had been so long. The tour lifestyle was not suited to relationships, and finding alone time was basically impossible when he shared a tour bus with his entire backing band. An opportunity like this hadn’t presented itself in ages.

Andrew took his length into his hand, stroking it with his thumb and feeling it beginning to grow hard in his grasp. His urge was to start pumping vigorously, but he paused.

_Go slow,_ he thought _. This is romantic, after all._

Spreading his legs as wide as the tub would allow, he traced his hands along the insides of his thighs, around the base of his shaft and down underneath. A thrill ran through him, and his breath caught in his throat. God, it had been so long, even the gentlest touches drove him wild. Encouraged, he continued, using slow, languid strokes, teasing around his most sensitive areas without touching them. His toes curled as his fingertips circled closer and closer to his anatomy, and his hands began to shake with anticipation. An audible groan of desperation escaped his mouth.

His resolve broke, and he took his length into his grasp again. His heartbeat throbbed against his hands, and he used the slickness of the water to his advantage, sliding his hands up and down the shaft. He tried to go slowly at first, but soon, he couldn’t help it. His movements became frantic, water splashing as his hips bucked and his back arched and soft moans began falling off his lips.

His head tilted back onto the rim of the tub, his breathing became ragged, and oh _god_ , he was so _close_ …

_Hold on_ , a part of his brain said.

Andrew stopped, panting for breath.

His head spun. The pain of denial was agonizing. He gripped the sides of the tub, purposely taking deep, full breaths. Slowly – ever so slowly – his breathing steadied, his body relaxed, and the ache between his legs began to subside.

After what felt like an eternity, he tentatively slid his hands back under the water.

His fingers trailed over the sensitive tip, and a shock of pleasure jolted through him. He bit his lip, hard, as he let out a whimpering cry. The pain didn’t even register – he was too busy finding his rhythm again, thrusting into his hands, chasing his pleasure to its peak.

Finally, he threw his head back and let out a loud, deep, moan that felt like it came from the same deep place in his chest as his most powerful vocal performances. His body jerked sharply, and then went limp. He felt like he could melt into the water, every part of him awash in the hazy afterglow of pleasure.

One thought pierced through the fog.

_I should take more baths._


End file.
